


Synchrony

by Ogawdy



Category: Warcraft (2016), Warcraft - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-28 07:28:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7630720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ogawdy/pseuds/Ogawdy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Synchrony, n.: simultaneous action, development or occurence.</p><p>"I was thinking, this spell... It requires perfect coordination, right? So does <i>dancing</i>."<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Synchrony

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by vyragosa's prompt: http://vyragosa.tumblr.com/post/146718873824/a-spell-that-requires-both-of-them-to-be-totally  
> Thank you to eriakit for betaing! You're a precious human being *hugs*

Synchrony

Khadgar slumped back in his seat, drained of mana. The runes around him faded slowly, no longer fueled. The room was cast in near darkness and Medivh got up to light the candles all around the library. They had been working on this spell since morning and the day had slipped by without either of them noticing. Khadgar welcomed the warm glow of the candles, exhausted and shivering. Heading back to the table, Medivh stopped right behind him, offering him a small blue vial of mana. The apprentice accepted it gratefully, downing it in one go. Khadgar could immediately feel the invigorating effect of the potion. Almost unconsciously, the Guardian’s hands placed themselves on his shoulders and began massaging, getting a contented sigh out of his lips. Behind his back, Medivh let a small smile slip past his usual stern expression. The silence stretched as the two mages recovered, the tension slowly leaving the apprentice’s shoulders. When they suddenly sagged, though, the master paused his ministrations, waiting for him to speak up.

“We’re never going to get it right, sir.”

He sounded defeated and the Magus heaved a loud sigh, coming to sit opposite him at the table carved with runes and glyphs. He gave the young one a level gaze before answering.

“Nothing’s impossible with enough time and practice, lad. This is a hard spell, harder than anything we’ve ever tried before. It is normal to not get it right away. Synchronizing your arcane flow to one of another mage is high level magic. I didn’t expect us to succeed today, but we’ll get to it. You’ll see.”

“But what’s the point of wasting time practicing this one spell that requires both of us instead of teaching me how to cast offensive spells on my own? Surely that’d be more productive in an actual battle rather than losing precious time synchronizing ourselves. Why bother?”

“Because this spell is stronger than anything you or I could ever conjure up on our own. Teaching you how to fend for yourself will duplicate our attack strength, but casting this one spell together, combining our strength will be like multiplying it by ten. Don’t give up the fight just yet, Young Trust.”

Khadgar hung his head low and Medivh could tell he was embarrassed. It was easy to understand the apprentice’s point of view. Today’s work had only brought frustration and exhaustion but they hadn’t really gotten closer to completing the spell. To tell the truth, the Magus had hoped to at least manage to get both their arcane to flow in harmony, if not synchronized, but Khadgar didn’t have to know that. It was too late for tonight, anyway. They both had more than used up their mana and needed sleep. Medivh started to collect the books scattered on the table, arranging them in neat piles. However, the silence became longer and longer and he glanced back at his apprentice to shoot him a questioning glance, only to find him staring right at him. He looked thoughtful, eyes squinting slightly and bottom lip caught between his teeth. This was never a good sign. Medivh grew more worried as Khadgar held his gaze, before suddenly letting out a loud hum.

“What?” The Guardian finally snapped.

“I was thinking,” started Khadgar, “this spell requires perfect coordination, right?”

He merely hummed in response, warily watching him get up and round the table. He stopped in front of him, leaning on his hands on the table. Medivh stood his ground, not moving an inch despite Khadgar getting closer and closer to him. But he couldn’t control the slight shiver that ran down his spine and he knew well the other had noticed. A devilish smile took over the youth’s face.

“So does dancing.”

The smile somehow got even bigger as Medivh’s eyes widen. Any protest he could have voiced was cut short by Khadgar pulling him to his feet and towards the center of the room. He put the Magus’ hand on his hip, putting his own on his shoulder, and gripped the other one, getting in position. His eyes locked on Medivh’s, as if challenging him to back away.

“There. You lead.”

The words were full of malice, the challenge made clear. No one was to say the mighty Guardian didn’t have his pride and as much as he felt foolish standing amongst the bookshelf, he found himself initiating the first movements, out of spite. Khadgar followed gracefully, trying to adjust himself to the other’s rhythm. It was obvious he was skilled at dancing and that he missed it. 

Medivh could only look back at Dalaran’s annual balls with great dismay, having never understood the point of such gatherings. But it seemed Khadgar had enjoyed them, and indeed he missed them. Here in Karazhan, he spent most of his days alone, only joining Cook and Moroes for dinner. It was rare to see the Guardian if they weren’t working on something together, as he usually took his meals in his room at the top most level of the tower and requested no one bother him. 

Since he had arrived in Karazhan, when he wasn’t researching in the library, Khadgar had spent a great deal exploring the many levels. He would sometimes stumble upon a vision of another time and he had become used to it, going as far as to seek out specific visions such as those featuring the Guardian himself. His favorite one, outside of those including Medivh, was one of a dance. It occasionnaly changed places but it was always the same, masked participants twirling through the air, silent and graceful, those few steps forever repeating themselves in the empty corridors of the fortress. 

It made Khadgar wonder and brought a feeling of longing into his heart each and every time, his eyes burning as the vision faded. It reminded him of happier times, when being a mage apprentice of the Kirin Tor wasn’t a burden but an honor. He had enjoyed dancing, the way it brought people together and gave peace to the troubled mind for the night. He found the gentle swaying of hips, the feel of someone’s hand in his strangely appeasing. He longed for these feelings to return. 

When he had offered dancing as a way to practice the spell, he fully expected Medivh to refuse. It was out of turn, unthinkable, the master dancing with the apprentice. But he hadn’t tried to push him away, instead gripping his hand and engaging the first steps to a dance Khadgar was highly familiar with. It was the opening dance to all balls in Dalaran, the only one older mages seemed obliged to take part in. The Magus was inexperienced, years of non practice leaving him hesitating, clumsy even. Khadgar was not much better. He had actively avoided the dances in his last few years at the Kirin Tor. They were out of tune, unsychronized, fumbling and stumbling on each other’s feet. 

It was disatrous.

Khadgar pulled away, huffing in frustation, trying to hide his slowly reddening cheeks. They stopped spinning across the room, standing unmoving in the middle of the room, silent. The Magus finally took a step forwards, hand coming to rest on his cheek, urging him to turn towards him. 

“There lad, no need to work yourself up over something like that.” 

A second hand turned his face gently, but Khadgar still refused to meet his gaze. His eyes were shining with tears, exhaustion and frustration taking their toll on the young apprentice. The Magus swallowed a sigh, Khadgar’s attitude reminding him of his younger self, when his mother would teach him. He had been even younger than him, before his long coma, and full of pride and delusions. The young ones always took failing harder than older mages, experienced in the art of trial and error.

“It’s getting late. Maybe we should…”

The Magus trailed off as Khadgar shook his head vehemently.

“No. Please, let me try again.”

Medivh knew that this was about more than dancing, more than just that one spell and he pinned the young man with a calculating gaze. Khadgar stared at him with a decided look, eyes hard and now shining with defiance. Finally, he let his hands fall down, expression kind as he gripped Khadgar’s hand, putting his own hand on his shoulder.

“Fine. But you lead then.”

The look of instant happiness on Khadgar’s face was blinding. He immediately reverted back to a serious stance, concentrating, eyes never leaving the Magus once. Then, they started to dance. 

Something had changed, though what Medivh could not tell. But as their steps spun them around the room, it was obvious something had shifted, be it in their own mind, the air or the magical flows always present in the tower. Both their souls were at rest and their steps in perfect synchronization. The awed look on his apprentice’s face brought a small smile on the Magus’ face, and he was the first to look away from their prolonged stare, instead turning his gaze to the many bookshelves surrounding them. He let his mind wander, let himself be lost in the silent flow of the dance and opened to the arcane. 

The view was mesmerizing.

Blue flows twirled around them, catching at their every steps, creating intricate patterns through the air. It was as if the arcane itself was dancing. Where their hands joined, mana swirled like smoke, falling to the ground in spirals. They weren’t controlling it; the arcane flowed freely, around and between them, connecting them. It was impossible to differenciate between Khadgar’s and Medivh’s power, as they were one, united in this moment. 

Medivh was captivated. This wasn’t raw power like when his mother connected to his arcane to enhance her own. This wasn’t fast and striking like the power from dozens of mages in the mist of battle. This was gentle, powerful yes but collected, swaying through the air in long strokes. This was-

Peaceful. 

At one point, though neither of them remembered, Khadgar’s hand had shifted from Medivh’s hip to the small of his back. Medivh’s own hand had found itself on the back of Khadgar’s head, bringing his face to rest in the crook of his neck. There, entwined in each other, they let their steps come to a stop, and with them the dancing flows of arcane faded. They stayed longer even, unmoving, drinking in the other’s presence like a life line, until the rising sun found them. 

Khadgar blinked tiredly into the light, mind fogged and half asleep. He listened to the slow breathing of the Magus, his own unknowingly perfectly synced. He shifted, and Medivh pulled back just enough to stare into his eyes, the most gentle smile gracing his lips. Suddenly, the apprentice’s eyes widen, panic quickening his heart beat at the realization of their current situation.

“Sir, I…”

Medivh silenced him with a finger on his lips. His eyes were soft, sparkling with affection, as was his voice as he spoke up.

“Get some sleep, lad. We’ll talk when you wake up.”

Eyes drooping once again as exhaustion took over, Khadgar merely nodded. The Magus lead him to his chambers, watching the door close behind him with a thoughtful look. Behind him, Moroes appeared.

“Everything alright, sir?”

He stayed quiet for a moment, still staring at the door.

Something had changed, that night. Medivh could feel it in the air, the way his arcane flowed, no longer restless but channeled for the first time since he woke from his twenty years long coma. He himself felt more at peace than ever before. He could feel the drift of mana around him, originating from him, but also the one coming towards him, wrapping itself around him, not quite the same but all too familiar nonetheless. Every flow connecting him to the one person behind this door. Khadgar.  
A fond smile broke on his face, as Moroes eyed him in expectation.

“…Sir?”

“Do not worry, Moroes. Everything will be alright, now.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Dance with me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15251271) by [Ogawdy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ogawdy/pseuds/Ogawdy)




End file.
